The Bet
by leoandsnake
Summary: Maverick wants something from Iceman that Iceman doesn't want to give him, so they settle it the only way they know how: flying and corny, sexually tense banter. Maverick/Iceman.


**A/N: Belated Christmas present for Mere. Happy 6th day of Hanukkah? **

/

Maverick wasn't sure when he started wanting it. Maybe it was something Iceman did or said, but he started really wanting to fuck him.

In the literal sense. They were already fucking, of course. That had been kind of inevitable, although Maverick was desperately trying to hang onto his remaining heterosexuality, and still seeing Charlie, which Iceman didn't even seem to mind.

No, Maverick wanted to be inside Iceman, and not in a quickie, we're-really-drunk-you-can-put-in-me-for-once-as-long-as-I-get-to-stick-my-face-in-a-pillow-and-it's-fast way, but real, he wanted to look at Iceman's face and see him be vulnerable, to watch and hear him enjoy getting fucked. Maybe _that's _what it was, because they were heading toward the end, and it always seemed like they were tied or Maverick was a few points down.

/

So he floated it while they were in the shower.

There wasn't a whole lot of funny business going on; the showers at TOPGUN had been way too crowded after that day's hop and Maverick had offered his own as an alternative. He had a date with Charlie later, also, and sex with Charlie was always best after some fooling around with Iceman. It sounded hellishly dysfunctional in theory, but it worked.

Iceman had been soaping up his hair for the last six minutes. Maverick cleared his throat.

"Wanna make a bet?"

"About what," Iceman intoned, taking the detachable shower head out of his hand and rinsing his hair out.

"Tomorrow's hop."

Iceman said nothing, so he pressed on.

"If I get Hollywood first, I get to fuck you. Me on top, looking you right in the face, you have to be totally sober."

Iceman chuckled. "And when _I_ win?"

"Um," Maverick said. He hadn't thought about that. "I'll... I'll forfeit the next hop. That's an extra point. Makes you a lock for the lead."

"That's ballsy," Iceman muttered as he shook his head back and forth. Maverick got hit in the cheek with a glob of lather. He shoved Iceman, who retaliated by reaching over and pinching his left nipple. Maverick wrested the shower head out of his hands, pushed Iceman's neck down, and sprayed his head, top-down. Iceman jerked away, grabbed him around the waist and knocked his feet out from under him, pulling Maverick in close and shoving his tongue into his mouth. The nozzle bounced merrily around them, spraying everything. If Goose had been there, he would have made a comment about how many household deaths occur in bathrooms due to that kind of stupid shit.

After giving Maverick's lip a good bite, Iceman let go and grabbed all of the towels off the rack, stepping out of the tub.

"So," Maverick said, righting himself and pushing the curtain aside. "We're on?"

Iceman was combing his hair back and didn't answer immediately.

"Yeah, Mitchell, fine," he finally said, tossing Maverick the towel he'd wiped his hands dry with. "Hope you like second best."

"Hope you like me in your ass," Maverick called after Iceman as the door closed behind him. As comebacks went, it wasn't very dignified, but hey.

/

"We really have to win this," he said to Goose during pre-flight.

"Okay," said Goose. "So not like the rest of the time, where we really have to lose."

"It's important today," Maverick said, leaning out of the cockpit and clearing his throat.

"How was your date?" Goose said, dropping his voice and raising his eyebrows.

"Okay. We went to the docks."

"Dinner?"

"Yep."

"Any..."

"Just above the waist."

"Air pressure?"

"Huh? Oh, twenty-two inches."

"And we're gonna have fun, fun fun, 'til Daddy takes the T-Bird away," Goose sang in a falsetto. "All right! Let's do this."

/

It was unusually cloudy out, which was nice: almost no cockpit glare.

Maverick was less confident than usual. He thought he'd probably win, but he didn't like the idea of having to forfeit another point if he did lose. They might be here by pure luck, but he _really_ wanted to be Top Gun, and he'd gotten used to the idea that he could be. He didn't think of it as being cocky. More like aggressively optimistic.

He and Goose were both scanning the friendly skies, waiting for Hollywood to make his move. Iceman was somewhere behind him.

Maverick flicked his headset so he was no longer broadcasting. "Iceman's going to want to pussyfoot around, so let's just get in there."

"Keep it clean, though, Mav."

"Yeah, I know."

Another flick.

"Worried yet, Kazansky?"

"No," Iceman drawled in his ear.

"Ladies," Hollywood cut in. "Let's skip it for once, okay?"

If Hollywood successfully evaded them, he got the point, but that didn't seem likely - especially not today.

Slider snorted. He had a very distinctive snort.

/

Hollywood swooped down in front of them, dipping down into the canyon and shooting back up. Maverick immediately felt his muscles tense, his eyes narrow, his stomach twist. Everything got sharp and bright, sound fuzzed out, his immediate surroundings disappeared.

Right there.

Iceman was behind him, but he was coming up fast, he was higher - the perch - no no no -

Maverick immediately ascended.

"Mav, hey, he's your wingman -"

_Flick._

"No, no, that's not the exercise - it doesn't matter in this one -"

"Let him -"

"Goose!"

"Okay, fine! Just stop going off comms!"

They were about the same height now and someone was going to have to move; Hollywood was still evading them.

"Immelmann," Maverick said softly. They were getting closer to him and Iceman was trying to ascend again.

"Mav -"

"Iceman won't expect it."

_Flick._

"This isn't the circus," Goose mumbled, and then fell quiet.

Hollywood's maneuvers were getting listless, he was losing speed. Maverick's knuckles were white.

Iceman wouldn't be creative. He saw him in the mirror and he was flat-out, he would have gotten Hollywood otherwise, but with Maverick there...

They were approaching quicker and quicker. Hollywood banked, but he wasn't moving fast enough.

Iceman fell in altitude, he was closing in -

Maverick went into his loop, he shot up, rolled, Hollywood was still beneath him -

Slider swore.

Hollywood, unable to see him, panicked, did the stupid thing and rose right into his line of fire as he continued, upright now -

wham, thumb on -

lock -

"Steady, steady," Goose said in his ear.

"I have tone!"

"_Fuck fuck fuck!_"

And he had him.

/

When they landed Maverick was still giddily riding the afterglow. Jesus Christ, he had really come out of nowhere. He wondered if Iceman was going to be pissed about the whole, uh... _dangerous _aspect of it. Then again, there was a certain part of Iceman that loved it, and both of them knew it.

He staggered down from the Tomcat, his abs already aching. Goose took him by the shoulders and started steering him off the tarmac.

"What the hell was so important about this?"

Maverick glanced over. Viper was nearby, going through pre-flight for the next hop with Jester at his side. He looked up and shot Maverick a glare, mustache curling.

"Whoops," Maverick muttered.

"We should have stayed on defense, Mav," Goose sighed.

"That wasn't necessarily the objective -"

"All right, all right." Goose let go of Maverick's shoulders and slung his arm around him.

"I followed the rules," he said, defiantly, sliding his aviators down over his eyes.

/

Maverick couldn't get out of there fast enough, but he had to shower, ditch Goose, and let Charlie call him an idiot first. Iceman was avoiding him, which was only turning him on more.

He would show up, of course. And that was going to be the really hot part about it, the fact that Iceman knew he had lost and he was going to have to submit.

His whole body thrummed as he got dressed, and the drive home felt like being flayed alive. His hard-on against the vibrating seat of the motorcycle was the worst.

Should've jerked off in the shower._ Shit._

Waiting at lights was unbearable. He ran two stop signs.

/

When he pulled up, Iceman's Cadillac was already there, and guess who was sitting on the hood.

"Mitchell," he said, as Maverick clambered off his bike. "You should really wear a helmet."

"Like my flying today?" Maverick said, as casual as he could possibly be with his cock throbbing like it was.

Iceman raised an eyebrow. He was backlit by the harsh setting sun; everything about him was bright. He didn't sunburn like Maverick did, but his skin was flushed.

His body language was very open. Arms back, hands against the hood. Legs apart, braced. Lips parted.

"Yes."

"Yeah?"

Maverick approached him, putting only fingertips down on the hood, on either side of him. Hot, hot hot metal. Okay, ouch. Jesus.

Iceman's chin was back, now, and he wasn't making eye contact. "Hard move to pull off, with me right there, gunning for the same target."

Maverick grabbed him by the jaw and looked him right in the eye.

"I'm going to fuck you now."

Iceman's breath caught in his throat, surprising both of them. Maverick's body lit up with tingles. They stared at each other.

His dick was aching from the lack of release. He would probably fuck a tree, at this point. _But._

"You want me to," Maverick said. It came out like a question.

Iceman grabbed him roughly by the wrist and brought his hand down, then pushed him back with one hand to the chest and headed inside the house.

/

They undressed each other in the doorway to the bedroom, which was surprisingly intimate. Maverick was as gentle as possible. He wanted to lull Iceman into a false sense of security before he fucked the everloving shit out of him.

Iceman liked following orders, so he gave him some.

"Middle of the bed."

"Lie down."

"Spread your legs."

When Iceman had complied Maverick knelt between his ankles, squeezing lube onto his fingers and waggling them back and forth, enjoying the sensation.

Iceman watched him. He was leaning back onto a pillow with that expression he got sometimes, like he was waiting to be impressed. Maverick moved in, deceptively slow, putting a hand on Iceman's knee and pushing it a little further to the side, then leaning in to suck at Iceman's throat as he pushed a finger inside of him.

Iceman let out a rough gasp that surprised them both. Maverick lifted his head and kissed him hard on the mouth, drawing back and pulling the finger out again just to see Iceman's reaction.

His jaw was set, and he was staring Maverick down, still dominant even prostrate here on the bed.

Maverick pressed a hand gently to Iceman's throat because he knew that would make the sound much better, then leaned forward again, pushing in with two fingers.

Iceman made a noise almost like he was hissing. Maverick put his hand down, bracing himself against the bed, then thrusted hard, curling his fingers inside of Iceman.

Iceman flushed and threw an arm around Maverick's neck, pulling them together. His pupils were huge, crowding out his irises. His teeth were clenched.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Maverick repeated. It came out rushed and slightly scrambled. "I'm... gonna..."

"Do it." Iceman all but barked it in his face. "_Do it._" He rocked himself further onto Maverick's fingers.

"I'm giving the orders here," Maverick snarled. Two more fingers, out of nowhere. Iceman grunted in pain. Maverick relished in the sound. If he hadn't been holding himself together like he was, it would have made him come.

"No talking back."

Iceman's breaths were ragged and strange, coming faster than they should have been. Maverick wondered if he'd never even done this before, because it was obviously hurting him.

The fingers vanished and with them Maverick grabbed the sheets where they had bunched, right behind Iceman's shoulders. Iceman's eyes rolled back slightly, flashing the whites; he opened his mouth and showed his teeth.

Maverick pushed inside of him at that moment. Iceman sucked in air - his hand jerked away from Maverick's shoulder and seized a handful of his hair.

His cock was screaming. Iceman was way too tight; he was resisting Maverick, even now. He thrusted again and prickly heat shot out from his spine. He moaned in pain. This was fucking backwards, and not _fair_ - he thrusted harder, harder, white-knuckling the sheets in a death grip. Finally Iceman rocked back into him, seemingly involuntarily, and his body eased, sinew and muscles unbunching underneath wonderful golden-brown skin.

"Fuck," Iceman hissed, his head again tipping back, still gripping Maverick's hair in his hand. "you - little - _bastard_ -"

On another thrust, he moaned, with_ Maverick _buried in that moan somewhere.

Maverick's hips bucked in triumph. He was fucking him in earnest now, holding onto the bed like his life depended on it, and Iceman was welcoming him in. He spread his legs further, the sharp bone of his ankle brushing Maverick's side. They were both so _warm_, so very warm.

Again -

His breath caught hard that time, Maverick heard it viscerally as his arm brushed the short hairs on the back of his neck as he fucked into him, and they were standing on end, Iceman's hackles were raised -

But Maverick was still here and inside of him -

Again -

Iceman's lips were swollen and red from his biting them, the clarity of orgasm had Maverick focusing on that, and only that -

Again -

- and he came, resting his head against Iceman's chest and continuing to thrust in earnest. Iceman's hand released his hair and he rolled to the side as Maverick pulled out of him, staggering off of the bed and into the bathroom.

Maverick sat back in a daze, half expecting Iceman to jump into the shower, but no, he was only wiping Maverick's come off of himself.

He looked like a preening bird. Maverick smiled affectionately, softened by afterglow.

He was going to have to remember this moment when he was having fucking dick rug-burn at thirty thousand feet and cursing Iceman for not being able to just _relax_ for five goddamn minutes.

Iceman came back, gingerly. He went to sit and thought better of it, instead flopping face-down on the bed. He had a few painful-looking fingernail marks on his ass.

_Whoopsie._

"Mmm," Maverick said. He had meant to form words, but that was easier said than done, sometimes. "C'mere," he said, finally. "I'll finish you off."

Iceman pushed himself up off of the mattress and glanced sidelong at Maverick. "Well, get over here, then."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

"You are excused, _Lieutenant_," Iceman drawled.

"Prissy bitch. Get over here."

Iceman gave him a very smug little smile.

They wound up meeting each other halfway.


End file.
